


find each other in the dark

by yangonfire



Category: RWBY
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, F/F, a somewhat angstier retelling, because it's MOSTLY relegated to backstory, but this story is like......angst lite for me, please if you've ever read anything i've written you know there's angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-02 04:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12719913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yangonfire/pseuds/yangonfire
Summary: [mrs. potts voice] tale as old as tiiiiiiiiime........





	1. Chapter 1

The rose is withered, as it has been for years.

Adam Taurus holds it delicately between his gloved fingers, inspecting it in the ruddy, dying light of dusk.   _Beautiful_.  His enchantment gives the parched petals a subtle glow, but not life.  Life was what he took from them when he took everything from _her_.

Something seethes within his chest at the mere thought of her, of her lovely face and her bitter betrayal—an ache that years ago could have crushed him beneath its cruel heel, but now only fills him with purpose and passion.  Patience is all he needs now.  

The dead rose he carries with him holds a thrill, but it has waned with time.  Watching the rose die, watching the color fade from the pedals as they shriveled under the weight of her grief was the pinnacle of that thrill.  What he wants, what he waits for, is to have that vicious triumph renewed, to shatter her again and again and again, the way she shattered him.  But first, the rose must bloom again, and it will.  The only question is the timing.  She’s too soft, too delicate to last forever.  She’s a flower herself, and what flower can survive the frosts of winter?  What flower can keep its face turned away from the sun?

  
  
__________________  


“Dad, I’m all finished,” Yang calls over the repetitive clanging of her father’s hammer.

He pauses just long enough to tell her, “Thank you, sweetheart,” but Yang has already dropped her heavy gloves on the bench beside their forge and headed outside.

Night falls early at this time of year, and it’s chilly out—only a few crickets can be heard making music with the owl that must live somewhere nearby.  Not bothering with a lantern, Yang crosses the yard, pulling her scarf a little closer around her neck and then bracing a hand on the fence to hop over it.

It’s a short road into town, and Yang knows it well even in the dark.  When she arrives, most of the shops and houses are already shuttered and quiet, appearing to huddle against the cold, but there’s one defiant building in the square with laughter and warm firelight streaming out into the night.  A smile tugs at Yang’s mouth and she hurries towards it.

Those hunters are in town again, and Yang can’t wait to hear their stories.

A particularly raucous round of laughter meets Yang’s ears as she pauses for a moment in the open doorway of the tavern.  The hunters are easy to find, sitting together and surrounded by a crowd of mineworkers and tankards, and there’s Junior, busy with some customers at the bar, so Yang takes her opportunity to slip inside without catching his attention.

Nobody pays her any mind as she moves around the edge of the room, and when the crowd is between her and the bar, she finds an empty chair and sits, crossing her arms on the chair back.

One of the two hunters is red-faced, apparently already drunk, and he’s waving an empty tankard in the air as he blusters at his audience.  “—and you all wouldn’t have believed it if you’d seen it yourselves!  That wolf’s shoulders were level with Barty’s, and when he stood on his hind legs he towered over us both—”

“Come now, Peter, don’t overstate it—” the other cuts in with a laugh.

“You were _concussed_ from that fall, remember?  You didn’t get a proper look at the monster.”

One of the men at the table interjects, “Wolves don’t even stand on two legs!  We’d know, we have plenty in these mountains to deal with.”

“But this did, reared up like a bear to roar at the pair of us,” says the first, hitting the table with his meaty hand.  “I told you, if you’d seen it you’d be doubting your own eyeballs.”

Yang rests her chin on her arms as the conversation continues, a little disappointed.  With all the work at the forge today, she’s missed the best part, the part _before_ everyone’s drunk and before they start arguing over how much the tales are exaggerated.  These stories are entertaining, if obviously fantastical, but what Yang always hopes to hear are the ones about faraway places—savage, beautiful wildernesses where surviving is a battle, trade outposts filled with as many colorful and dangerous people as can fit in one wooden fort, bustling port cities where important things happen every day.  Places that Yang will never get closer to than through the words of these strangers.

She listens for a while longer, but she’s just thinking about getting up and leaving when something draws her eyes back over to the bar.  And right into Junior’s bad-tempered gaze.

.. _.Damn it_.

“Hey!” he barks, slamming a mug down on the counter as he walks around it, jabbing his finger in Yang’s direction.  “Kid!  I thought I told you not to come in here anymore.”

She’s sitting up straight now, and the entire tavern is quiet as Junior stalks over to her.

“Come on.  Out.”  Two of the tavern workers, the ones who are mainly there to break up fights, walk up behind him as he points at the door.

“Uh....”

“Now, Mr. Xiong,” the taller of the hunters says from their table.  “The girl isn’t hurting anyone.”

“Not yet,” Junior growls.  “The last time she was here, she punched a fellow in the face.”

That sparks something hot in Yang and she stands up, gripping the back of her chair.  “That wasn’t my _fault_.  He wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“So you knock his _tooth_ out?”

“Yeah,” Yang says, indignant, pushing the chair away with her heel and crossing her arms.  “He got what he deserved, and I’d do it again.”

Junior grits his teeth, huffing an angry breath before saying, “Not in my tavern, you won’t.”

That’s when a pair of hands falls on her, one on her arm and one on her opposite shoulder, and Yang sees red.

The next thing she knows, one of Junior’s men is crashing backwards into a table with his hand clamped over his mouth.  Her right fist is throbbing, Junior is shouting, “Get her the _hell_ out of here!” and more hands are grabbing onto her arms, pushing her towards the door.

“Let _go_ ,” she growls, but only half attempts to shake the men off of her before they’ve shoved her out into the cold.  She stumbles for a few steps, but regains her footing and turns back to the tavern with a glare just in time to see Junior grab a hold of the door.

“And don’t come back!” he shouts, and he slams the door hard enough that the shutters rattle.

Breathing heavily, Yang stands there in the darkness for a moment as the usual sounds from the tavern pick back up again.  Her adrenaline is wearing off quickly, and as it subsides, the pain in her hand is replacing it.  When she lifts her trembling hand, she can see in the remnants of firelight that she’s busted three of her knuckles.  Wonderful.

The path back home feels twice as long as it had earlier that night, probably because of how drastically her mood has changed since then.  And to make everything worse, when she gets home, there’s still light coming from the windows at the front of the house, which certainly means her dad is still awake and most likely waiting for her.  Still, she tries to enter quietly, but the moment the door creaks shut, she hears his footsteps.

“Yang?”  He walks around the corner, his relief obvious when he sees her.  “Where have you been?  I was starting to worry.”

“Nowhere, just...in town.”  There’s no way she can hide her bleeding hand without being obvious about it, so she leaves it at her side and hopes he doesn’t notice.

He does, of course.  A look of surprise crosses his face and he immediately reaches for her hand, lifting it to inspect the injury.  “What...are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“No.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Nothing, Dad, everything’s...fine.”

She’s trying to avoid his eyes, but he puts his big hand on the side of her head and she’s all but forced to look up at him.  When he speaks again, there’s just a trace of sharpness in his voice.  “ _Yang_.”

She holds his stare for a moment, but when she says it, she has to look away because she doesn’t want to see disappointment on his face.  “I hit a guy.”

After a moment, Taiyang releases her and she hears his heavy sigh.  “Come on,” he says quietly, stepping aside and dropping a hand on her shoulder.  “In the kitchen.”

She walks ahead of him, and she sits on the counter while she waits for him to gather what he needs to clean her split knuckles.  While he works and she tries not to grimace too much at each new sting, she keeps expecting him to start interrogating her, but instead, he stays quiet, cradling her injured hand in one of his and gently cleaning up the mess.  The silence is making Yang crazy, so when he’s wrapping a bandage around her knuckles, she finally breaks it.

“What, no lecture?” she asks.

He pauses and looks up, and one corner of his mouth is lifted in a small smile, but mostly he just seems tired.  “Would you like one?”

“Not really.”

“Well that’s good,” he says, returning to his work, “because I don’t much feel like giving you one right now.”

After he ties off the bandage, he steps back so she can slide down from the counter.

“You’re _sure_ you’re alright?”  When Yang nods, he sighs again, but then tips his head toward the stairs.  “Then off to bed, and keep quiet—Ruby is sleeping.”

Yang heads for her room, only realizing how tired she is when she has to walk upstairs and her feet feel heavy.  There’s no stopping the bedroom door from creaking, but there’s light in the room anyway—a single candle on the nightstand softly illuminates her little sister, who is _very_ much awake, lying on her back and holding a book several inches above her face.

Shutting the door behind her, Yang whispers, “Almost finished with that one?”

Ruby gives her nothing more than a curt nod, a look of intense focus on her face that makes Yang smile.  She pulls off her boots and jacket and drops them on the floor, and somehow makes it across the room to fall into bed.

  
__________________  


A fire is already roaring when Yang walks into the forge early the next day.

“Morning, Dad,” she calls to him across the forge, tying back her hair as she walks up to the anvil.

Taiyang looks over his shoulder.  “Good morning, sunshine.”  He gives her a smile and a wink, and Yang lets herself hope that last night isn’t going to be brought up.  Probably wishful thinking, but she’ll take what she can get.

She’s about to ask him what they have for work today when she sees several crates stamped with the Schnee Mining Company emblem sitting in front of the cooling trough.

“More tools from the quarry,” he tells her.  “Most of them just need their edges refined, but a couple have broken handles and some of the pickaxes need to be bent back into shape.”

Yang picks up the disembodied head of a sledgehammer that looks like it’s seen better days, inspecting it.  It looks old and, well...hammered, and she gets the impression that this probably isn’t the first time it’s seen the inside of their forge.

“I’ll get to work,” she says, and heads to the shed out back to find a piece of wood that could be fashioned into a suitable handle.

“That’s my girl.”

A gust of chilly breeze buffets her the moment she steps outside, relieving the old tree which stands beside the forge of more of its fiery orange leaves.  It will be entirely bare soon if the wind keeps on like this.  She glances up as she walks beneath its boughs, but it seems her sister has found something to do this morning besides climb a tree and get lost in a book.

After a minute of digging through the wood shed, Yang returns to the forge with a stave of about the right width to fit the hammer head.  

“Dad, have you seen Ruby?”

Taiyang swipes an arm across his brow, standing beside the bellows and sweating despite the crisp, autumn air.  “She went to the market this morning.  For eggs, I think she said.”

“Eggs and a new book, probably.”

Her dad chuckles at that, and Yang turns to her task.

Mining tools aren’t exactly the most interesting pieces to smith, but they’re what she and her father spend the majority of their time working with so they’re familiar.  Most repairs are straightforward, each broken piece presenting a tangible problem that Yang can work out a solution for.  It’s simple work, but there’s something rewarding in it—or at the very least, it keeps her sane in this tiny, remote town.

She and her father work for a while in companionable silence, and she enjoys that too, just being able to help him and knowing he trusts her to do so.  But eventually, Taiyang breaks the silence, and if it’s possible to groan silently then Yang does.  She knows exactly what’s coming.

“Yang, will you come hold this steady for me?”

“Yep,” she says, keeping her voice casual and hopping up from the bench where she’s been carefully stripping bark from the hammer’s new handle.

He has a piece on the anvil, either a long, iron chisel or some kind of pry bar that’s bent out of shape and glowing red hot, but whatever it is, it’s heavy when Yang takes it in both gloved hands.  And now she has nowhere to go.

She watches Taiyang’s hammer strokes, bracing herself, turning the metal as needed for him to reshape it, but after a minute or two he says, “We should talk about last night.”

Suppressing a sigh, Yang keeps her eyes on the hot iron.  “Do you have anything new to say, or are we just going to argue about what you’ve told me a hundred times?”

He gives her a quick smile.  “Well, maybe it will sink in on the hundred-and-first try.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is, Dad,” she says, summing up her end of how this conversation always goes in the hopes that it will end quickly.  She can’t keep frustration out of her voice.  “I never, _ever_ start anything.  With anyone.”

“You said last night that nobody hurt you.”

“They didn’t, they just—”

“—did something you didn’t like, and you lost your temper and lashed out.”

Yang opens her mouth to object, but there’s nothing to object to; he’s right.

They’re both quiet for a moment while Taiyang works, and then he speaks again.  “I know that...things haven’t been easy for this family.  You’ve always been there for your sister, but, well, I haven’t always been there for you.  Not like I should have been.”  Again, Yang doesn’t argue, because he’s right about that, too.  “But I’m trying to be here for you now.  I hope you would tell me if something was wrong.”

“Why would you think something’s wrong?”

“Because last night wasn’t the first time this has happened, Yang,” he tells her quietly.  The hammer in his hand lies still on the anvil now, and when Yang looks up at him, a trace of worry finds its way into the small smile he gives her.  “I’m just concerned about the reputation you’re developing.”

He phrases it delicately, but she knows exactly what he means and she bristles. It’s like he doesn’t think she notices the way people talk about her or the looks they give her, like this is the first time she’s heard anything about how an entire town of people think she’s odd, and maybe a little unbalanced..

“Why do you care what they think?”

“I wouldn’t, Yang, you know I wouldn’t, not if our family had any chance of leaving this town, but the work in any place where a person would _want_ to live is snatched up by men more talented in the trade than I am.”  He smiles again.  “I was a better—”

“—better soldier than you are blacksmith, I know, you’ve said.”

Taiyang smiles a bit wider and makes his way around the anvil, and Yang sets down the pry bar as he places his hands on her shoulders.  “But I gave that up for you and your sister, and I don’t regret it for a minute.  I’m proud of you, sweetheart, more and more every day.  And I know that the opinions of small-minded people don’t change how kind, and how strong you are.  But I also want you to have a future.  I want you to be able to settle down some day, have a family of your own.”

“But...what if that isn’t what I want?” she asks, and she’s unable to look him in the eyes.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back and dropping his hands, “what _do_ you want, then?”

“I….”  She fidgets with her glove, giving herself an excuse to continue avoiding eye contact.  “I don’t know, I like the way things are now.  Helping you here, and...and looking after Ruby.”

She hears a quiet sigh.  “Yang, even if you could do that forever, which you can’t, is that _really_ what you would choose?  Don’t you want to be your own person, have a life of your own?”

She looks back up at him, but before she can answer, a voice chimes out from the yard, accompanied by scurrying footsteps.

“Yang!”

Normally when Yang hears her sister calling for her like this, it means something is wrong, and she goes instantly alert.  But when Ruby dashes into the forge a moment later—red cloak flapping in the wind and a basket on her arm—her eager face is glowing.

“Yang, Dad, you’ll _never_ believe what I saw on the way home just now!”

“What’s that, sis?” she asks, a laugh finding its way into her voice.  Ruby’s smile, nothing short of delighted, is impossible for Yang not to mirror, at least until she hears her sister’s next words.

“A _faunus!_ ” she practically squeals.  “I saw a faunus, just like from the books!”

Yang glances at their dad, who looks to be sharing her abrupt confusion.  “Uh...that’s impossible.”

However, Ruby is completely unperturbed, and if anything seems even more excited.  “I know, but I _did._ ”  She sets her basket down on the packed dirt floor and lifts the white cloth cover, revealing a cluster of speckled eggs, the leather-bound book which Yang had expected, and— “Here, I bought you both a sweet roll, they’re still warm!”  Ruby straightens and holds them out, one in each hand, and Yang’s mouth waters at the smell as she takes hers.

“Thanks, Rubes,” she manages to get out before she sinks her teeth into the sticky roll.  Delicious.

“Didn’t you get one for yourself, kiddo?” Taiyang asks around a bite of the stuff.

“Of course I did, I just ate it already.”  She taps a finger to her chin.  “I wonder if that’s why the faunus came out, ‘cause he smelled my sweet roll and wanted one too.”

Yang looks at Taiyang again, brushing some crumbs off her mouth with the back of her hand, and she swallows before asking with a raised eyebrow, “Ruby, did you fall asleep while reading again?”

“No, _Yang_ ,” Ruby says, shooting her a look.  “When would I have done that? I was walking home from the market and I saw a man out in the woods, and he had a fox tail!  He looked like he was waiting for something, but he saw me watching him and after a little while he disappeared.”

And Yang is definitely not sure what to say to that.

However, their father speaks up.  “Wait, the woods?  Did you walk back by the stream again?”

Ruby freezes, suddenly very guilty  “Uh,” she says.  “Whoops.”

“Ruby Rose,” he says in a stern voice, clearly upset and whipping out the dreaded wagging finger—which Yang finds to be a little amusing since it isn’t directed at her.  “I told you not to go that way anymore.  It isn’t safe.”

“But, Dad,” Ruby says, putting her arms behind her back and looking a little like a kicked puppy.  “The woods are so pretty!”

“They’re _dangerous_ , Ruby.  You know that.  There are wolves in the woods during the daytime, too, not just at night.”  He lowers his hand, shaking his head.  “And now _fox men_ , apparently.”

It’s clear to Yang that he doesn’t believe that last part, but Ruby says, “He didn’t look very dangerous.”

Taiyang sighs, apparently not in the mood to entertain his younger daughter’s idea that she’s found magic in the forest.  “Just promise me you won’t go that way again.  Stick to where there are other people.  I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.”  He crosses over to her and wraps her in his arms.  “Promise, Ruby.”

Her voice is a little muffled, but she says, “Okay, Dad,” and puts her arms around his waist.

A sound turns Yang’s head in the direction of the road as she pops the last bit of sweet roll in her mouth.  Hoofbeats, seemingly headed towards the forge.  Taiyang bends over to kiss the top of Ruby’s head, then releases her to step outside, and Yang’s gaze follows him and then hangs on the place where he had disappeared from view.  She hears someone, a man, call out, “Xiao Long!” and then her father’s voice in reply, but the distance muffles the rest of the conversation, and in the relative quiet her mind drifts back to the earlier talk.

_I want you to be able to settle down someday, have a family of your own._

_I don’t want that._

_What_ do _you want?_

Yang turns slowly, absently, back to the bar that’s still resting on the anvil, its metal now barely a dull red, much too cool to work on.  She could put it back in the fire, but leans her hands on the anvil instead, all desire to work evaporated.

What _does_ she want?  She gave her father the easy answer, and she could likely be content if it’s the way her life turned out, but she knows he was right when he told her it wasn’t something she could choose.  Ruby would grow up, Taiyang would grow old, and today would not last forever.  Truthfully, she doesn’t know if she _wants_ it to.  Getting lost in the routine is easy, working with her father, looking after her sister, passing each day the same way and forgetting about the passage of time.  She’s not unhappy living this life, but she’s not satisfied, either.

Yang forces a sigh through her nose, clenching her jaw a little and making herself move.  She can still hear voices outside as she walks to the bellows and takes the handle in both hands, pumping air into the fire and stoking the glow.  Whatever she wants—and there is _something_ , something...bigger, something _more_ than all of this—she has long since begun to wonder if it’s as imaginary as Ruby’s faunus.

Speaking of which.

“I _did_ see him, Yang.”

Yang looks in the direction of the subdued voice and sees her sister sitting on a bench, her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees, staring at the floor with a little pout on her face.

“Dad doesn’t believe me, but it’s true.”

“I mean…” Yang says slowly, not sure how to deal with a suddenly delusional sister.  “Do you really blame him?”

“Huh?”  Ruby looks up at her, an incredulous look on her face.

Walking over to the anvil and lifting the heavy pry bar, Yang considers her words carefully before speaking.  “You can’t really expect him to just accept that you saw a man with a tail standing out in the woods.”  She takes the tool to the forge, burying it down in some of the hot coals and then taking her place at the bellows again.  Each time she heaves down on the handle, the heat radiating from the fire practically scorches her face.

Ruby is quiet for a few seconds.  “Don’t _you_ believe me?”

“Uh….”  Yang takes a step back from the fire and wipes sweat from her forehead with her sleeve.  “Well, I believe that you _thought_ you saw something.”

“I did!” she says, insistent, sitting up straight and bouncing her feet once to stomp her heels on the ground in emphasis.

With a sigh, Yang walks around the forge, swinging one leg over the bench to sit beside her sister, tugging off her gloves.  “Ruby, faunus are those people with monkey tails and lizard horns in the stories I used to read to you when you were like, five years old.”

She crosses her arms and sticks her nose in the air.  “And _this_ one had a fox tail.”

Well, fine, if Ruby is going to be unreasonable then Yang isn’t going to tread lightly.  “Oh come on,” she says, reaching around to grab her sister’s red hood and pulling it up and over her face.  Ruby rewards her teasing by flailing and letting out a yelp, and when she pushes her hood back, there’s a scowl on her face.  “Faunus aren’t real.  You’re almost fifteen, you should know the difference between real life and fairy tales by now.”

“Well excuse _me_ if I trust my own eyes over what my big, _smelly_ sister says.”

“Hey, I’m not smelly!”

“You will be by the time you’re done in here tonight.”

Ruby probably isn’t trying to be funny, but Yang laughs a little as she stands up, stretching her arms over her head.  “Okay, Ruby.  Why don’t you go...feed your horse or something?  I have work to do.”

“Crescent will believe me,” Ruby says, and with an indignant little _humph_ , she scoops up her basket and sets off towards the house.

Yang watches her retreating figure for a moment, a little mystified.  Her nearly grown-up sister still talks to an animal like it will understand every word.  The horse is smart, sure, but no animal is _that_ smart.  But, it’s not like her sister’s little fantasies are hurting anyone, so Yang just shakes her head and pulls her gloves back on to get back to work.

She’s just pulling the now-hot prybar out of the fire when she hears her father call.

“Yang!”  She looks over to see him enter the forge.  “They need me at the mine.  An accident, a cave-in that broke some of the carts and now the work is stopped.”

“Did Schnee take anybody’s head yet?” she asks, setting the heavy bar down on the anvil.

An amused smile touches Taiyang’s face as he stops beside her.  “I don’t think he’s been told, which is better for everyone.  Anyway, I’ve got to grab a few things from the house but then we’ll be leaving right away, and I won’t be back for a couple of days.  You can hold down the fort for me?”

“‘Course I can.”

“Thank you,” he says, and he steps forward to wrap her in a hug.  “Take care of your sister, alright?”

She nods as she hugs him, head under his chin, but what he said makes her curious.  “Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you worry about Ruby too, like you worry about me?”

Taiyang chuckles.  “She walks through life like it’s a storybook and sees fairies in the forest.  Of course I do.”  He pauses then, and his next words sound thoughtful.  “She’ll grow out of it.”

“Do...you wish there were things I would grow out of, too?”

She feels his sigh as much as she hears it, and he takes a step back to put his hands on her shoulders.  “Yang, what I want the most for you is that you’ll do, and be, whatever makes you happy.  As your father, I obviously have some...expectations for what your life will be, but, well, being your father doesn’t mean I’m always right.”

That puts a grin on Yang’s face.  “Oh you should _not_ have told me that,” she says, and he barks a laugh in response.

“Yeah, well only I get to decide _when_ I might not be right.”

Yang crosses her arms and tilts her head.  “But what if you’re wrong about _that?_ ”

“Okay, get back to work you rascal,” he says, and still laughing, he drops his hand onto her head and pushes her playfully away.

Yang laughs too, watching him as he heads outside.  “Love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, sunshine,” he says over his shoulder, raising his hand in a wave.

With a sigh, Yang looks back down at her task on the anvil, remembering suddenly that the weight of the tool had required two of them to work on it effectively before.

Well, time to find a way to fix the damn thing by herself.

 

__________________

 

If there’s one thing on earth that Ruby has learned over the last few years, it’s that reading a book is like making a new friend, but better.

And Crescent.  Crescent is also like a friend, but better.

Her chestnut mare nibbles at the short grass a few feet away from where Ruby lays on her stomach in the shade of a tree, not doubting her, not _laughing_ at her like _Yang_ had.  Just listening, and blinking at her slowly as if she understands.

Ruby hadn’t been too surprised that her father didn’t believe that she’d seen a faunus, so when he’d found her to say goodbye before leaving for the mine, she hadn’t brought it up a second time.  Mostly she just didn’t want to be scolded again for venturing out into the woods.  But Yang.  Yang was supposed to believe her, and she didn’t.

“You’re the only one I can count on anymore, Crescent,” Ruby says, shifting her weight from one elbow to the other.  Her book lies open on the grass in front of her, but she hasn’t gotten very far into the story.  She can’t focus on it.  “Yang would have believed me, before, when we were younger.  Now she thinks she’s all grown-up and has to be important and boring.  ‘Go feed your horse, Ruby.  I have _work_ to do.  I have stupid _hammers_ to fix.’”

The horse doesn’t react to her excellent—if exaggerated—impersonation of her sister, just takes a couple of steps away from the tree, still eating quietly.  Ruby rolls onto her back.

She _did_ see him.  She remembers exactly what he looked like, as clear as the sky.  His skin was light brown, the way the farmhands always look after a summer of working under the sun, and his eyes were narrowed like he was looking for something, but she was too far away to tell what color they were.  He seemed...maybe the same age as Dad, or a little older.  And of course he had that bushy, grey tail—it _was_ a tail and not part of his clothing because it was swishing back and forth behind him.

“Why would I make this up?” she bursts out, raising both hands up to the sky for a second, then letting her arms fall over her head.  Crescent looks up at her for a moment, blinking slowly, before turning back to her grazing.  “You’re right, there’s no reason.  And I’m not _crazy_.  I saw him!”

Ruby pushes herself up, crossing her legs.  A gust of wind flurries across the field and she follows the ripples in the grass with her eyes until her gaze lands on the distant edge of the forest, its tall trees painting a streak of dark green between the earth and the sky.

She knows her father thinks it’s dangerous.  But to Ruby it just looks...enticing.  There are beautiful sights to see out there—and _mysteries_ to find, she just knows it.  After all, the good stories never happen at home.

Setting her elbow against her knee, Ruby leans her chin on her hand, still watching the trees.  “Do you think he’s still nearby, Crescent?  I bet he is.”

And that’s when she has an idea that she shouldn’t have.  An idea that makes her sit up straighter.  An idea that makes her nervous and excited and guilty all at once.

She glances behind her, back towards the house, but that’s silly—her father left hours ago and Yang is busy in the forge.  No one is paying attention to her.  She bites her lips, looks up at Crescent, halfway hoping the horse will reprimand her for thinking such things.  But she doesn’t, of course.

So...they won’t be gone long.

  
__________________

 

It’s halfway dark by the time Yang leaves the forge that evening.  Only one person had come in all day to interrupt her as she worked steadily through repairs on the mining tools—a farmer who lived near the village, disgruntled by the fact that Taiyang had gone and Yang was the only person available to repair his plow.  But it was a simple job and she’d finished in no more than twenty minutes, shut his grumbling right up, and she can’t help but feel quite proud of herself.

Her back and arms are aching, though, and her stomach is growling something fierce since Ruby had never come out to the forge with lunch like she usually does.  And yeah, she’s probably smelled better once or twice in her life...which means it’s probably time to find Ruby and give her a bear hug,

“Ruby?”  She closes the front door of their house behind her, kicking off her boots, but scampering around a corner comes Zwei instead, his little stump of a tail bobbing back and forth.  “Hey bud,” she says, bending over to rub his ears.  “You know where Ruby is?”  He, of course, has nothing to say, and Yang makes it as far as the kitchen with no sight of her little sister before her stomach protests loudly and she decides she can probably wait to give Ruby a hard time until after she’s eaten.

She munches on an apple and throws together a sandwich with cheese and some salted beef, but she makes the mistake of sitting down in her father’s slouchy armchair as she eats.  The windows in this room face the afternoon sun, and though it’s dusk now the room is still flooded with warmth, and it makes Yang’s eyes bleary and her limbs heavy.  She really _is_ tired.

Zwei trots up to her and sits on her foot like he always does, and she tosses him the last little bit of meat from her sandwich and licks the salt off a couple of her fingers.

She yawns widely, letting her head fall back against the chair, and her eyes close on their own.  She’ll just...rest.  Just for a few minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorryyyyyyyy for the delay, here's chapter two. this is actually more than i thought i was going to be able to post when i decided earlier this week that saturday was my deadline, so. good job me i guess.

Ruby knew she was right about the woods.  There’s nothing to be afraid of.

But there _is_ a lot to see—trees lazily racing each other towards the sky, or maybe trying to outrun the moss that crawls up their bark, songbirds playing games in the branches, even the clear sunlight filtered through yellow leaves which dapples the forest floor with transient patterns is something she could watch for hours.  She meets a doe, too, catches her eyes just long enough to smile at her before she turns and runs with her tail in the air like a flag of surrender.  There’s so much to see, in fact, that Ruby can’t possibly take it all in even though her eyes are wider than she thinks they’ve ever been.  But maybe it’s better that way.  If she pulls Crescent to a stop and examines one thing long enough to uncover all of its secrets, then maybe it would lose its wonder.  She never wants that to happen.

Besides, she doesn’t have time to stop.  She’s on a mission, a quest to clear her good name, to prove that adults don’t know _everything,_ and that Yang isn’t even an adult, anyway—she just _thinks_ she is.

So she keeps going.  She knows she’s not sure where to look, but she has a good feeling that they’re on the right track.  And even if they don’t find the faunus today, this adventure will have been worth the time and much, _much_ more fun than sticking to the house or the village like she does every single day.

“I wonder if it might have been a better idea to just go back to where I saw him,” Ruby says to Crescent, “and wait for him to come back.”  The horse keeps walking, kicking up old and new leaves that blanket the ground.  “I should at least have stopped at the market and brought some more sweet rolls with me to share when I find him.”  Or, to eat herself, she thinks as her stomach growls.  She wouldn’t mind that at all, and if she wasn’t so far already, she might consider going back.

...Going back.  Something about that thought makes Ruby feel suddenly very small.  She tugs lightly at Crescent’s reins and twists in the saddle as the horse stops.  The way back...looks the same as everywhere else.  But she frowns that thought away.  She’s not _lost_ , because the sun has been on her left the entire time.  All she has to do to get home is turn around and keep the sun on her right, and she’ll make it to the town’s clearing.  It’s just _logic_.  She taps Crescent’s flank with her heel, telling herself to stop letting her dad’s fear affect her.

But it’s a while later when Ruby notices that the patches of gold on the ground are gone, that the sun is too low to paint them there anymore, that her dad’s fear starts to become hers, too.

_No_ , not fear.  Just a little nervousness, maybe.

Ruby glances around and pulls at the reins again.  “Hmm, let’s um, let’s look for him another day, okay Crescent?  We should go home.”  One of Crescent’s ears flicks back at that, and it soothes Ruby’s trepidation a little.  The horse knows that word, _home_ , and Ruby is sure she knows the way back as well.

Turning Crescent around, Ruby tries to focus on the sights of the forest again.  It’s pretty in this light, too, even if the light seems to be disappearing more quickly than she can ever remember it happening before.  The evening sounds make music, but she isn’t sure she likes the song.  And were the trees always this _monstrous?_

Ruby mutters under her breath, shivering a little as she steers Crescent’s head.  “Sun on the right, sun on the right.”  Crescent keeps veering too far to the left, putting the last rays of sunlight behind them, and she seems antsy, tossing her head as she walks and snorting every now and again.  

“I know, girl,” Ruby says, patting her neck, but the horse changes direction again and Ruby has to tug her back on track, which she doesn’t seem to like.  “Come _on_ , Crescent.  We’re going this way.”

Crescent stops fighting her so much after that.  But as daylight dies and shadows creep upwards until they fill the sky, Ruby grows less sure of the way back.  In fact, though they haven’t turned from their course, they’ve started up a hill, and there are patches of _snow_ on the ground standing out from the shadows, that doesn’t seem right at all.  The incline grows steeper and steeper until Ruby has to lean forward in the saddle to keep her balance, and Crescent’s sides are beginning to heave with effort.

Ruby pulls her to a stop, and looks up.  The sky—the slivers and cracks of it which she can see—is not so dark as she would have thought, but she can’t _get_ to it.  There are miles and miles of trees between her and the light, and miles and miles of trees between her and home.

She’s crying before she’s even realized there are tears in her eyes.  Out of old habit, she grabs onto her cloak and pulls it around her, letting her head bow forward so she can stifle her sobs against her hand.  All she can think is that she wants Yang, because Yang is strong and brave and always knows what to do, and that just makes her cry more.   _Why_ did she do this?  Why is she so stupid?  They’re lost and they’re never getting back and it’s all her fault and she’s so, so _stupid_.

But the next moment, Ruby’s head snaps up, her cries instantly silenced though tears are still on her face because she’s heard something, something that freezes her blood.  A new, terrifying note in the night music.  Howling.

_Wolves_.

Crescent has clearly heard them too because she’s stamping as Ruby fumbles for the reins in the near darkness.  “Go, Crescent.”  But where?   _Where?_  “Go!”

The horse starts off, but the slope is steep and she has to pick her way down carefully to keep from slipping.  Frantic, Ruby glances behind them, all around.  It’s getting too dark for her to see much of anything but her eyes keep telling her she’s seeing movement.

Then the ground levels out beneath them, almost like a pathway, though Ruby can feel it more than see it.  She gives Crescent a kick and now they’re flying but not as fast as Ruby’s hammering heart.

The howling doesn’t stop, only draws closer, closing in from every side as if they know exactly where the horse is going before Ruby even knows it herself.

And then she sees them.  Three, prowling in wait on the path ahead.  Crescent lets out a squeal and skids to a halt, but it’s only a moment before she leaps into a gallop again, veering off course and into the thicker trees.

Ruby clings to her for her life, urging her horse to run faster.  Wind whips by and all but freezes the tears on her face.  Somehow the sounds of the wolves following, barking as they race through the underbrush, cuts through the blood roaring in her ears.  One misstep, one slip and they’re dead.  

Crescent crashes through a web of branches that claw Ruby’s face and hands and suddenly the trees are behind them, but a high wall and gate are directly ahead, blocking the way, and Crescent rears up without warning, squealing and throwing Ruby off.  Her back slams into the ground, knocking the air from her lungs, but as she gasps for breath she has enough awareness to roll away from Crescent’s stamping hooves.

_The gate_.  Ruby scrambles towards it.  She can hear the wolves snarling behind her, and Crescent screaming in fright, but the only thing that matters is the gate.  She crashes into it, grabbing the bars and shaking them and for a moment, she thinks she’s trapped, but then suddenly they give way and one gate swings open.

Ruby falls forward.  The wolves are there but she manages to kick the gate closed with her foot and she tries to get away but something pulls tight at her throat and she’s jerked back with a cry.  Through the bars, a wolf has her cloak in its teeth, digging its claws into the earth and tugging her towards the gate.  There’s only one thing to do.

She yanks the clasp free and she stumbles forward, scrambling away from the iron gate as she gains her footing.  Rattling and growling turn her back around in fear, but the bars are holding, a barrier of safety between her and the wolves.  And farther back, she can just make out Crescent’s fleeing figure.

“No, no, no….”  She takes half a step forward, but there’s nothing she can do.  She’s stuck here.

Her eyes drop to the wolves, still staring with yellow eyes and snarling with yellow teeth, and even though it seems they can’t get to her, she decides it would still be best to put some distance between her and them, maybe find some shelter.  There’s a gate, after all, so maybe someone lives nearby, or at least used to, and left some abandoned buildings behind.

So she turns around, and her jaw drops.

“Woah….”

In front of her, framed on either side by towering mountains, stands an enormous castle painting an imposing shadow against the darkening sky.  Now that she’s out of the trees, the soft moonlight illuminates the space around her, reveals turrets and spires which stretch upward as high as Ruby can see, and the fact that she’s drawn to it has nothing at all to do with her need for shelter and warmth.  It’s just that it’s the most breathtaking thing she’s ever seen in her life.

Up stone steps, through an open gate, along a path that winds around a frozen garden, Ruby approaches the castle, wishing she had her cloak.  By the time she’s reached the stairway leading to grand wooden doors, her imagination is running wild with thoughts of kings and princesses, knights and magicians who _certainly_ lived here long ago.  There must be a story about them somewhere, and she would desperately love to read it.

_No kings here now, though_ , she tells herself as she stops in front of the doors.  Probably no one at all, but that doesn’t stop her from hesitating.  She almost feels like she should knock.  Instead, she reaches out with both hands and pushes.  The door groans open, and Ruby peeks around it to see...mostly just darkness.

“Hello?” she says to it, and it says nothing back, so she pushes the door open a little bit wider.  “Hellooo?”

No one here, just like she thought, and no reason to be so nervous.  Ruby heaves against the door, and though the hinges practically screech in protest, it swings wide until it hits the inside wall with a deep thud.  Dim light spills in.  It’s still darker inside than out and probably just as cold, but at least there are walls to block the wind and a roof to keep her dry in case it snows, so taking a deep breath, Ruby walks inside.

Three steps in, and her footfalls are muffled by a worn carpet on the stone.  All she can really see is the floor at her feet and ahead of her a staircase on both sides leading upwards, but she can tell by the echoes that the room she’s in is quite spacious and if she looks up she can imagine that there’s no ceiling at all, that the shadow just keeps going and going without an end.  Luckily, she’s never been afraid of the dark.  It _is_ making her realize how exhausted she is though, so if she could just find a sofa, anywhere she could lie down, preferably with some blankets….

She shivers a little when she thinks about that, but there’s nothing to do for it other than keep walking so that’s what she does, looking around her as she goes.  She passes long hallways, but she sticks to the one she’s in now—getting hopelessly lost isn’t something she wants to do _twice_ in the same day.  Every now and then she finds a doorway to a large room, each one as big as a cave, and mostly bare.  She wonders if they have a purpose, or if the king who built this castle simply ran out of furniture.

It isn’t until she reaches the end of the hall—a high window on her right that lets in what little light is left outside, one staircase ahead of her, and another to her left that leads to a balcony—that she hears something that makes her freeze.

She’s not sure _what_ the sound was, but she knows it was something.  She stands there, not even breathing, just listening as hard as she can.  It almost seemed...no, it’s silly to think.  It must have been a rat scurrying on the balcony upstairs.

But there it is again—no mistaking it this time.  There’s not something up there, but _someone_ , and they’re whispering.  If she tips her head just so she can hear them, not what they’re saying, but she can distinguish two hushed voices.  They sound like they’re arguing.

Well, there’s no way they haven’t heard her, so Ruby takes a deep breath and decides to risk it.

“Hello?” she calls softly, and the whispering stops in an instant.  She waits for a little while to see if anyone will respond, then tiptoes on silent feet towards the stairs.  “Is someone there?”  She _knows_ they are, but her heartbeat is picking up speed though she’s trying not be nervous, and it’s easier to pretend that they’re the ones afraid of her.  They’re shy, maybe.  That’s why they didn’t come out when she knocked the first time.

Ruby stops at the foot of the steps.  She hasn’t heard a sound since she spoke, so maybe whoever it was ran away.  But she tries one more time.  “Hello?”

That’s when she hears three sounds in quick succession—a louder, hissed whisper, a swoosh of air, and a “Hello!” that shatters the quiet.

Ruby jumps with a little shriek and spins around to where the sound came from, hitting her leg on the bottom step and tripping over backwards, landing on the stairs with a thump and a racing heart.

“Oh, sorry!” the boisterous voice says.  Ruby looks up, and there’s someone above her.  Someone _hanging_ above her, from the balcony.  By a _tail_.

Or, well he was, because the next moment he drops down to the floor, somehow spinning and landing on his feet instead of his head.  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.  “It’s just been forever since we’ve had a visitor!”

Ruby doesn’t say anything right away, and although in her head she can hear every single adult she’s ever met telling her, _It’s rude to stare, it’s rude to stare, it’s rude to stare_ , she just can’t help herself.  He has a tail.  A _real_ tail, flicking left to right to left again behind him.  She _knew_ it, and she can’t stop the smile.  “You’re a faunus!”

He just laughs in a lively, impish sort of way, and holds out a hand.  “Name’s Sun,” he tells her.  “Who are you?”

“I’m Ruby.  Ruby Rose.”  When she takes his hand, he tugs her up off the floor.

“Well, Ruby Rose, welcome to the castle,” he says, sweeping one hand out and bowing low.  He looks silly doing it and Ruby giggles.  “But.”  He stands up again, putting a fist on his hip.  “I have to ask: what are you actually doing here?”

“Oh,” says Ruby.  She absently kicks the toe of her boot against the ground.  “Well...I was in the forest.  I wasn’t supposed to be, but, I was riding my horse I got lost, and it started getting dark, and then there were wolves and they scared my horse and I fell off and she ran away and...and now I’m here because I saw the castle, and it’s cold and I just wanted a place to sleep.”

Ruby can’t see Sun’s face very well in the dark but she does see him reach his hand up and rub his head, messing up his hair even more than it already was.  “Wow.  That sounds like...not a good time.”

Ruby shakes her head.

“Well if you want, I can take you where we have a fire going, and I can bring you something to eat before you get some sleep.”

Ruby thinks that’s the best thing she’s ever heard anyone say, and she’s about to say so when another voice comes from upstairs, and her heart sinks.

“No.  No, no, _no_ , she can _not_ stay here.”  Ruby hears footsteps and turns just in time to see a girl appear from around the corner, striding down the stairs towards them.  “You know the princess wouldn’t allow it.  I _told_ you, you weren’t even supposed to show yourself!”

_Princess?_  Ruby wants to ask, but this new girl doesn’t seem as friendly as Sun.   _He_ lets out a sheepish laugh, and when the girl is close enough, he reaches around Ruby to grab her hand and pulls her down to stand by him, though not without a protest from her.

“Ilia!” he says.  “This is my new friend, Ruby.”

“She’s not—”

“Ruby, this is Ilia!  I promise she remembers how to be nice sometimes.”  He yelps when she smacks his arm.

Ruby doesn’t think she should laugh, and she doesn’t know what else to say, so she just says, “Pleased to meet you,” since she’s been told it’s the polite thing.

But Ilia doesn’t say anything back to her at all.  Instead, she rounds on Sun.  “She needs to go.   _Now_.  She shouldn’t be here in the first place, and if you had just stayed out of sight like I—”

“And let her run into Fennec?  Or _Corsac_?” Sun says incredulously, sticking his hands out in front of him as though he was gesturing to something invisible.

“ _Exactly_ , if Corsac finds out she’s here, he’s going to—”

“Okay!” Sun says loudly, cutting her off.  “He’s not gonna find out.  This castle’s big enough that I can go for days without seeing either of those two if I try hard enough—” he puts his hand by his mouth and says in a fake whisper to Ruby even though she has no idea what’s going on “—and let me tell you, those are the _best_ days—”

“Now isn’t the time for joking around, Sun.  It’s not worth risking it.”

“Oh come _on_ , Ilia.  Look at her, the poor kid is lost and cold and hungry.”

Ruby nods—she is certainly all of those things—and Ilia finally turns to her.

Silence falls between the three of them, and although Ruby can feel Ilia’s stare more than she can see it, it’s still awkward enough that she looks down at the floor.

“She might freeze if we kick her out,” Sun says after a moment.

Another short pause, and then Ruby hears a drawn out sigh.

“Fine,” says Ilia, and Ruby looks up to see her pinching the bridge of her nose.  “She can stay one night, but _you_ are going to watch her, make sure she doesn’t go wandering off somewhere.”

Sun’s laugh sounds victorious, and he leans over to quickly kiss Ilia’s cheek before looking back and tipping his head, signaling for Ruby to follow him.  “See?” he says to her, starting off down the corridor.  “I told you she’s alright.”

Ruby glances back to see Ilia watching them go, and then in a hushed voice she says, “Why was she so mad?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘mad,’ she just, uh…” he trails off for a moment, turning down a side hallway that’s much darker than the other one, and Ruby has to grab onto Sun’s arm to keep track of him, which he doesn’t seem to mind.  She just hopes he knows where he’s going.  They walk for a little while before he continues.  “Well, you’re a human.  And we’re not.  And _humans_ are not supposed to know that _we_ exist.”  As he says this, he stops at a door with dim orange light streaming from the cracks and pushes it open.  “Right in here.”

She walks inside after him.  It’s _warm—_ there’s a fire in the hearth with a low sofa in front of it and Ruby can’t help but hurry to it, the chill rolling off of her with a shudder.  Instead of sitting down on the sofa, she kneels directly in front of the fire and holds out her icy hands.  She hears Sun chuckle behind her.

“Yang didn’t believe me when I told her you were real.  She said you were just in stories, but I always knew there was something special in the woods.”

She hears a soft thump and glances behind her to see that Sun has hopped up onto the arm of the couch and is squatting there, tail curled and arms on top of his knees.  “Who’s Yang?”

“She—” Ruby starts, but interrupts herself with a yawn.  “She’s my...sister.”  She looks down when she says it, dropping her hands to the stone floor.  Suddenly she feels like crying again.  “She must be so worried about me.”

“Well, hey, she’ll be...in for a surprise!” Sun says, laughing like he doesn't know what else to do.  There’s a pause, and then Ruby hears his footsteps and he drops down to sit cross-legged a little distance from her.  “By the way, where did you actually come from?”

“My house is near the village, the one where all the miners live.”

“That’s lucky for you,” he says, perking up again.  “I know exactly where that is.”

“You do?”

“Yep, I can take you back tomorrow if you want.”

He gives her a toothy smile, and Ruby returns it timidly.  “I’m glad I found some _nice_ people in this castle,” she says, and yawns again.

Sun laughs and, pushing himself up with hand on the floor, he says, “I think the nice thing to do is let you sleep.  I’ll be down the hall if you need something, and don’t uh...don’t go anywhere okay?”  Ruby nods and Sun turns for the door, but stops abruptly.  “Oh hang on!  I forgot, I was going to get you something to eat.  I’ll be right back!”

Ruby watches him go.  Truthfully, she’s not sure she’ll be able to stay awake long enough to wait for him to bring her food.  She rubs her eyes and stands up, a little over-warm now from the fire, and moves back to sit on the sofa where she waits for a moment before looking to the side at a pile of soft-looking pillows.

Nope, she can eat tomorrow morning.

She unlaces her boots and kicks them off, curling up on the pillows.  It must only take a minute or two before she’s starting to doze off, but then the door hinges creak, and if Sun is back already then maybe she could make herself stay awake for long enough to eat something.

“Sun?” she mumbles, and pushes herself up to look back at the door.

But it’s not Sun.  It’s _him_.  It’s the man with the bushy tail who she’d set out to find in the first place, all those hours ago.  She sits up, a sleepy smile on her face.

“I know you!” she says.  “I saw you this morning, at the edge of the forest!”

But he says nothing.  Instead, his eyes narrow and his expression turns dark, and suddenly, after thinking the worst part of her misadventure was over, Ruby is afraid.

  
  
  


Yang wakes up just once that night, with enough awareness to wonder why Ruby didn’t wake her to come up to their bedroom, and enough energy to stagger to the sofa to sleep instead.

  
  
  


The neighboring farm is quite distant, but the rooster that lives there never fails to wake Yang before the sun is up.  If she was a more vicious person, she might have murdered it already.

This morning, however, the rooster is beaten to it.

“Mmph, Zwei…” Yang grumbles, covering his nose with her hand and pushing it out of her face.  She rolls away from him, hiding her head in the corner of the sofa seat and back, but Zwei climbs up onto her, his little paws jabbing her in the ribs, and when he’s back in front of her, he squirms under her arm and up to her face again.  He whimpers and then starts licking her chin.  “ _Stop_ ….”  He doesn’t.  “Ugh, Zwei, what do you want?  It’s the middle of the night.”

That’s not quite true.  When Yang rubs her eyes, she can see that dim, grey light has begun to settle in the room, but still.  This hardly counts as morning.

However, Zwei isn’t calming down, and it’s impossible to sleep when he’s whining like this, so Yang huffs a groggy sigh and pushes herself up until her feet hit cool wood.  Zwei scrambles into her lap and she puts her arms around him, leaning over to bury her face in his neck and squishing him a little more than he likes—partly because it’s cold in the room and she’s shivering, partly because he deserves it.   _Dumb dog._

He starts squirming again, so Yang dumps him on the ground.  “Okay, come on,” she says, and she heads to the kitchen, straightening her jacket which she’s still wearing from the night before and shoving her feet into her boots where they sit by the back door.  Chilly air greets her when she opens it, and when she steps outside, frost crunches under her boots.

“Zwei.”  She looks back into the house, and the dog is standing by the stairs.  “Do you want to come out here or not?”  He just yips a little bark, but it’s Ruby who can practically speak his language, not Yang.  She has _no_ idea what he wants, and she’s not feeling particularly patient this morning so she just sighs again.  “ _Come_ , dog.”

Zwei looks up the stairs, but he obeys anyway, following her out the door, and then for some reason he immediately scampers off around the side of the house.  Well, Yang isn’t going to bother asking where he’s off to.  A shiver rolls down her spine, and she decides that while she’s out here, she might as well go start up the fire in the forge so that it will be ready to work when she is.

The morning light has shifted from grey to gold, and the fire has climbed high enough to take the edge off of her chill when she hears the dog barking at her again.  

“ _What_ , Zwei?”  She throws her hands up and turns around to see him standing in the entrance to the forge.  “You have food!  You have a couch to sleep on and...and a three-acre field to run around in!”  He just barks.  “No, I’m not going to play with you, I have work to do.  Go bother Ruby.”

At that, Zwei cocks his head to the side, his ears perking up.  Then he barks again, turns tail to dash a few feet towards the house, and turns back to look at her expectantly.

That makes Yang pause.  Zwei isn’t _actually_ a dumb dog; he’s a very smart dog and now that Yang is awake enough to pay attention, he seems quite agitated about something.  In all likelihood, it's something silly, but she should probably humor him anyway.

“Alright, I'm coming.”

He barks again and dashes to the back door of the house, looking back at her as she drops her gloves on the bench and follows him.  He repeats the same pattern, running ahead with a yip once she opens the door and pausing at the foot of the stairs to wait for her, then clambering up the stairs once she reaches him and stopping in front of the bedroom door.  It's latched shut.

“Oh, sorry boy,” Yang says with a half smile.  Apparently he just wanted to get in to Ruby the whole time.  She reaches down to rub his head as she climbs the last couple stairs and then opens the door, raising her voice.  “Hey Ruby, you—”

But she stops short.  Ruby's bed is empty.

Zwei bumps her leg as he runs past.  He jumps onto the bed, sniffing the blanket, and Yang looks around the door to the dim corner of the room.  But she's not by her bookshelf, either.  Zwei makes a noise that's between a growl and a whine, an echo of the worry that curves Yang's mouth into a frown.  She’s sure there's nothing wrong, or she wants to be, but she doesn't hesitate.

“Come on, let's find her.”

Zwei barks again, leaps off the bed, and clatters down the steps, and this time Yang bounds after him.  She can't shake the nagging thought that the last time she saw her sister was yesterday morning.

“Ruby?” Yang calls as she stops to push their dad’s bedroom door open and check inside.  It's been a long, _long_ time since Ruby has curled up there—still and distant—hiding on their mother's side of the big bed, but it’s the only place in the house that she could have been where Yang wouldn’t have already seen her.  Could have been, but isn’t.

A jog around the house, yard, and shop doesn’t uncover her either, and Yang’s willpower to force down panic is beginning to give way.

She stops in front of the house, gritting her teeth.  No!  It’s too soon to panic.  And it’s _certainly_ too soon to blame herself for something terrible happening to her sister when nothing has probably happened at all.

“Town,” she says, half to herself and half to Zwei, who is standing on alert at her feet.  “Ruby must have gone into town.”

Rather than turning to the road, Yang heads for the field.  She’s in a hurry, and taking the horse will cut the time it takes to walk the long road in half, but when she rounds the corner of the forge, she stops.  The horse is gone.

Yang blinks.  Oh, the horse is gone.  And suddenly all the pieces fall into place.

This isn’t the first time this has happened, that Ruby has taken her mare out for a ride without telling anyone, and Yang has no doubt that when she gets back, she’ll pretend like she always tries to that she’s been sticking to the town or the road or the farms, that she hasn’t been wandering and exploring places she _knows_ she isn’t supposed to.  And since their dad is gone, she probably snuck out early, hoping that Yang wouldn’t even notice she was ever gone, or at the very least that Yang would go a bit easier on her than Tai would have.

Well, that’s _definitely_ not happening.  Yang takes a deep breath, holds it for a second or two, and then lets it out with a hint of a growl as she puts her hands on her hips.  Dad left _her_ in charge and that gives her every right to give Ruby a piece of her mind when she gets back, which is exactly what she’s going to do.

After she hugs her, probably.

“She’s fine, Zwei,” Yang says.  “She’s just off with Crescent somewhere, being a little….”  But she stops herself, trailing off with a sigh.  She’s knows she’s just mad because she’d been so scared a moment ago and it feels silly in hindsight.  Maybe by the time Ruby gets back, Yang will have taken out all her anger on the broken mining tools and she’ll be able to leave the chewing-out for Dad to take care of.

Leaving Zwei to stand there, staring at her, Yang walks back into the forge to check the fire.  It’s burning down nicely, almost hot enough to use.  She breaks up the larger coals, watching the little flames burst out from the broken edges, pumps the bellows slowly to move the air just enough, and before long she has a perfect pile of smouldering coal with a fire of just the right size dancing in the middle of them.

Several hours pass as she works, shaping hot metal, stoking the fire, and pretending to ignore her lingering worry.  Zwei hates the forge so he stays outside, but in quieter moments when Yang isn’t hammering on the anvil, she can hear him whining faintly and it’s doing nothing for her own state of mind.  Finally, she drops a pickaxe blade into the cooling trough with an eruption of steam and steps back to wipe her sweat-damp face on her sleeve.  Her growling stomach has been reminding her incessantly that she didn’t eat breakfast this morning, and that it’s now closer to lunch, so she’s considering pausing her work to get some food when she hears what she’s been waiting for—a horse’s whinny and the distant thundering of hooves.

Zwei starts barking.  Unable to help herself, Yang dashes outside without even taking her gloves off.

“Ruby?” she calls, and when she rounds the corner of the forge, she’s met with the sight of Crescent galloping towards her from the distant forest.

_Only_ Crescent.  And an empty saddle.

Fear seizes her chest, makes it hard to breathe.  But she starts forward again, hops over the fence to the field as the horse turns to run a wide arc around the edge of the field before coming to a stop.

Yang walks to her slowly.   _Stay calm, stay calm_.  Crescent is clearly spooked, stamping and snorting, and Yang knows if she panics too it will just make everything worse.  She moves to approach the horse from the side, holding out a hand when she gets closer.

“Woah, girl,” she says, trying to steady her own voice.  “Easy, girl, it’s okay.”  Crescent throws her head back and snorts again as though accusing Yang of being a liar, which she is, because nothing is okay.  She dances around nervously, but she lets Yang approach until she’s close enough to lay a hand on her neck.  “Easy….”  Carefully, she reaches up with her other hand and places it on the mare’s head, rubbing the white moon shape on her forehead.  “What happened?  Where...where’s Ruby?”

Crescent paws at the ground.  There’s foam on her lips and her sides are heaving, and Yang knows she needs to rest but she also knows that the only way she’s ever going to find Ruby is if the horse can take her there.  Her eyes are drawn over the field to the woods and the distant mountains.  Ruby is out there somewhere—she’s sure of it.

Yang clenches her jaw, biting back her fear, and takes ahold of Crescent’s bridle to lead her to the water trough.  The horse follows willingly.  When she’s drinking, Yang hops the fence again and hurries to the forge.  There’s a satchel full of nails on the bench which she empties on the floor to take with her, stopping only to pick up her smithing hammer and put it through her belt.  Then, to the shed, where she takes the lantern from its hook, as well as a flint and striker, and puts them in the bag; then to the house to grab a bit of food and a canteen of water.  She doesn’t know how long she’ll be gone.

Stepping back out into the yard, she leaves the door unlatched so Zwei can go in and out, and she remembers that there’s still a fire in the forge but...well, it’s unlikely but if the whole shop burns down, her father will understand.  She doesn’t have time to worry about it.

Crescent is grazing when Yang walks up to her and swings herself into the saddle, and Zwei, standing just on the other side of the fence, barks once.

“I have to find her, boy.  Stay here.”  She thinks of her father, wonders if she should have written a note for him.  No.  She’ll be back home before he is, back with Ruby like nothing had happened.  She said she would take care of her.  She _promised_.

Yang turns the horse towards the forest.

“Okay, Crescent,” she says.  “Take me to Ruby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> commenting, complaining, yelling at me to get my bUTT GOING ON CHAPTER THREE can all be directed @ yangonfire.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, nine months later: YEET

Castle towers loom above Yang in the near darkness, and the shiver that rocks her has nothing to do with the cold air or the snow crunching under Crescent’s hooves.

“What is this place?” she mutters, half to Crescent and half to no one.  The forest around them has been quiet for ages, every sound muffled by the slow and constant fall of soft snowflakes, and the horse blows through her lips in response to Yang’s voice breaking the silence.  She’s spent her entire life a day’s ride from here, and not  _ once  _ has she heard so much as a rumor of a castle in these mountains.

Yang pulls lightly on the reins as their path ends at an imposing iron gate, and she dismounts, but hangs back near Crescent’s side.  She tries to tell herself that there’s no way Ruby could have made it this far, but she knows it’s just fear speaking, telling her to turn back, and she knows she can’t listen to it.  Ruby needs her, and Crescent wouldn’t have led her here if Ruby hadn’t come before. 

The flickering lantern attached to the saddle barely holds off nightfall, but its light is just enough to illuminate something lying at the foot of the gate.  A bright spot of color against the grey earth and white snow. She pulls the horse forward, dropping to one knee.

It’s the cloak, her sister’s cloak.  “Ruby….”  _ So she  _ is _ here. _  Yang clutches the ripped cloth in both hands, looking up at the gate and the castle beyond, letting her breath turn to mist in the air for a moment before gritting her teeth.   _ Dammit.  She  _ needs  _ you. _

Stuffing the cloak in the leather bag hanging from her shoulder, Yang stands and takes Crescent by the reins again.  The gate doesn’t give at her first push, but it doesn’t take her long to find the bar that’s holding it shut and when she lifts it, hinges screech and the gate swings open.

She doesn’t allow herself to pause, cautiously pushing forward with Crescent at her side.  A short stairway and an inner gate lead to a cobbled lane ahead. As they walk by the light of the lantern, she’s able to make out a dozen paths, half blanketed in snow and winding out of view.  They pass structures, low stone walls and benches, pillars and statues and gazebos tucked away off the path, but each is swallowed in the thick overgrowth of hedges and trees that sprawl over their bounds and dominate these grounds, more a continuation of the forest outside the gate than the cultivated landscape they could have once been.  Everything is wild here. Abandoned.

And above her, the castle touches the night sky, black against black.

This  _ would  _ be the sort of place Ruby would lose herself in, danger and dark not penetrating through her fanciful imagination.  Ruby could find a way to create a fairy tale here, to make the skeletal, dormant trees into something beautiful, but Yang has never been one to live in her own head like Ruby does.  She wants to leave this place as soon as possible.

The path follows a gradual twist, back and forth through the forest-garden but always towards the castle, and finally, opens to a snow-covered courtyard and a grand staircase flanked by two pedestaled statues.  Huge stone cats, snarling fangs bared, sitting with tails curled around their feet and powerful shoulders hunched. Their gazes are sightless but they send something crawling down Yang’s spine anyway.

She glowers up at one of them, steeling herself, then leads Crescent off to the nearest tree with branches low enough to reach.

“I’ll be back soon, and I’ll have Ruby with me,” she murmurs to the horse as she rubs her nose, and she wraps the reins once around a branch—loosely enough to keep her there but to let her break away easily if she needs to.  Then, untying the lantern and pulling her hammer from her belt, she turns back to the castle.

_ I’m coming. _

Yang crosses the courtyard quickly and jogs up the steps.  She didn’t notice this from where she stood before, but the huge, wooden door is already ajar, just slightly.  She shoulders it roughly and it protests as it swings open a few more feet, an ancient drone of rusted iron on rusted iron, and then silence fills the air again.

A faint, dusty smell meets her when she steps inside, and shivering firelight faintly illuminates the wide hall around her.  “Ruby?” she calls, and echoes scatter around her. No answer. 

Two staircases stretch ahead of her, curving out and around to a balcony above her, and a hallway continues forward beneath them.  No way to know which way Ruby might have gone, so she just has to choose. She grips her hammer, holds the lantern higher, and takes the right hand stairway, only to find four more hallways branching away from her at the top.  Well, she’ll search this damn castle from top to bottom if she has to. She begins with the farthest on the left, as if that will help her keep track of where she’s looked already, but she’s sure it won’t do much good. This place is enormous on the outside and a maze on the inside.

The halls are lined with statues, armor, tapestries, paintings, reliefs carved directly into the stone.  A few of them stand out to her and she tries to commit them to memory, use them as landmarks, but the farther she walks, the less her sense of direction seems to be holding.

“Ruby?  Ruby!” She tries every door she passes, but a lot of them are locked—she pounds on each one and calls out to her sister.  If she were by herself, making noise would be the last thing she would do, but Ruby needs to know she’s not alone.

_ If she’s even here anymore. _

Yang clenches her jaw against that thought, and suppresses a shiver as she leaves the last room in this length of hallway.  The minute she rounds the corner, she freezes.

There’s a monkey sitting in the middle of the hallway.

Yang jumps at the sight of it, clutching her hammer and stammering, “ _ What _ the hell.”  It’s small, yellow, and it’s looking at her with wide eyes—not frightened eyes, just...wide, and unnervingly expectant.  The next second, it twitches its head to one side and bares all of its needle-sharp teeth in what Yang could only call a grin.  Then it turns, trots away from her and up the stairs at the end of the hall, pauses before it rounds the corner to look back at her, and disappears.

“What the hell?” Yang whispers again, still rooted to the spot and more confused than she thinks she’s ever been in her life.  She’s never even  _ seen  _ a monkey before, not outside of a book, and standing there in the half-dark, she starts to wonder if she’s going crazy.  But then, there it is again, poking its head back into view. It chitters at her and disappears again.

Well, that answers it.  She’s lost her mind.

With a low growl under her breath, Yang returns her hammer to her belt and sets off after the animal at a jog.  Up the stairs, around the corner. The monkey is there, and as soon as it sees her it scampers off, still at a pace that she can easily match, and though it disappears through doorways and around bends, it always waits to catch sight of her again before continuing.

Finally, she sees it sitting at the bottom of a steep stairway that climbs upward and around, out of sight.  As she expects, the monkey locks eyes with her for only a brief moment before it turns and dashes up the steps.  Yang follows. The stairs, walls, and ceiling are all stone, and the way up is so narrow and turns and turns so tightly that she starts to feel dizzy.  Just as her breath is growing short, she rounds one final bend and the stairs level to a short hallway that opens up to a room beyond.

Yang pauses.  The monkey is nowhere to be seen, so Yang takes a moment to quiet her breathing before moving forward cautiously, lantern high and free hand held near the handle of her hammer.  The room is all gray stone, just like the stairway, broken up only by a single, narrow window and a series of wooden doorways embedded in the wall ahead of her. Bars, restricting a small opening partway up each door, mark the rooms they block as cells, and a shudder rolls down Yang’s back.

She swallows hard.  “Hello?”

Silence for a moment.  Then, a tiny sound that crashes into her with the force of a gale.

“...Yang?”

Breath knocked out of her, Yang can only whisper her sister’s name as she moves forward a few steps, looking around desperately, and after a second or two, she sees two hands appear at the bars of one of the doors.  Yang dashes across the room, crouching halfway when she reaches the door to drop the lantern, careless in her haste to reach for those hands.

“Oh gods, Ruby!” she manages to say around the relief and worry caught in her throat.  Ruby’s hands are as cold as the metal bars and trembling, and though Yang can hardly see her in this dim light, she looks extremely pale.

Ruby’s eyes are level with the bottom of the barred window, and there’s a sob in her voice when she speaks.  “Yang, how—?”

“Gods, you’re cold as ice.”  Moving nearly close enough to lean her head against the bars, Yang pulls one of her sister’s hands through to hold it against her cheek.  Fury is building against her other emotions, crowding them, and she gives Ruby a hard stare. “Who did this to you?”

“I…” she starts feebly, “I d-don’t know who they are….”

_ ‘They….’   _ _ This is bad. _  Yang sniffs sharply, squeezing Ruby’s hands.  “It’s okay, doesn’t matter,” she says. “I’m gonna get you out of there, Rubes.  Stand back.”

Ruby disappears from the window and Yang pulls out her hammer again, squeezing it in both hands and sizing up the door.  The planks are probably quite dense, thick, and they’re held together by dozens of iron rivets, but...maybe the hinges are a weak point.  With a steadying breath, Yang raises the hammer above her head.

The familiar  _ clang  _ of metal on metal echoes through the room, though in this enclosed space it’s louder than Yang would have anticipated.  She swings again, and again, and again and again and again, every strike stinging her bare hands through the vibrations of the handle.  Discomfort builds to pain but she shrugs it off and keeps swinging, harder than she ever did in the forge back home. Every strike pulls a grunt, or a growl, from her gritted teeth  She’s denting the hinge, dinging up the wood, but this door was built to withstand abuse and her progress is frustratingly slow. Eventually one strike bounces off the wood more than it harms it and Yang half stumbles a step back, panting, beads of sweat pricking her brow.

“I’ll...I’ll get this, Ruby,” she says, wiping at the dampness with her sleeve, then shakes out one of her hands.  “It’s just gonna take a while.” She glances back to the wall behind her in the dim hope that someone left the keys hanging up, but the stone is bare.  Sighing heavily, she lifts her hammer, grimaces, but before she can swing it down again, a voice rings out behind her.

“ _ Stop. _ ”

Yang spins around, hammer still raised.  A man stands across the room and another steps in behind him, thin and tall like the first.  Yang ducks down quickly to lift the lantern, and suddenly she can tell that neither of them are  _ just  _ men.  Her anger stutters in her chest.

_...Holy shit. _

The one with a tail swinging behind his legs takes a small step forward.  “You know, Fennec, this is only the second time but I’m already growing tired of our peace being disrupted by these  _ humans.” _

The one with furry ears towering over his head replies in the same scornful tone, not taking his eyes away from Yang.  “Yes, brother. I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“What ever shall we do about it?”

“I can think of a few things.”

The smile in his voice makes Yang’s skin crawl, but she raises her voice.  “Let my sister out  _ now.” _

A chuckle from one, and the other speaks.  “She’s a trespasser. I’m afraid her fate is sealed.”

“Like hell it is,” Yang growls.  “If you think I’m leaving without her, you—”

“Oh, we don’t think that.  We don’t think you’re leaving at all.”

“You have trespassed just as she did and you will pay the same price.”

They don’t move toward her, but Yang can’t see what other option she has.  “Watch who you’re threatening.” She steps forward with her hammer held ready, but she has to fight to keep her voice steady with the way her heart is racing.  “Open that door, and get out of my way, or—”

“Fennec, Corsac.  What is this?”

Another voice sounds from the shadows, and Yang looks to the dark hall past the men to see what can only be a pair of eyes catching the lantern light.  Before anyone else can speak, that yellow monkey scampers around the men and past Yang, across the room and leaps up to sit in the narrow windowsill. Yang stares at it for a second, but turns back when the man with a tail, Corsac, speaks.

“Princess, our deepest apologies.  The  _ servants,” _ and he says the word with disdain, “were instructed not to disturb you with this matter.  Everything is under control, we assure you.”

All Yang hears in response to this is a quiet hum, and the newcomer walks forward into the low light, coming to stand directly in front of the two men.  A slight figure dressed in a loose robe, the girl is like the others in that she’s clearly not human, a pair of pointed cat ears marking her as something...else.  Something that Yang isn’t ready to admit to herself yet. Her delicate features are hardened by a pair of sharp, golden eyes, striking in their contrast with the black hair that falls around her shoulders.

Yang swallows.  “Who are  _ you?” _

It’s not easy to tell in the dim light, but Yang thinks she lifts an eyebrow just slightly.  She speaks in a voice that is soft, aloof. “The master of this castle.”

“Then...then  _ you  _ must be the one who locked up my sister.  Let her out now."

The girl’s eyes move past Yang, focusing on something farther away.  She half turns to follow her gaze and sees that Ruby has come to the door again, fingers just peeking over the edge of the wood as if she’s standing on her toes and holding herself there.

Yang looks back just in time to see the girl turn again to the men behind her.  “I assume the two of you were responsible for this.”

Fennec gives her something between a nod and a bow.  “Yes princess, one of the servants was seen by the little girl.  She could not be left to roam, let alone leave the castle, so Corsac and I did what was necessary.”  He looks over at Yang then, with irritation on his face for the first time. “And now it seems our problem is compounding.”

Yang hears a sigh.  “If a situation this delicate arises in the future, you will come to me immediately.  Is that clear?”

“Yes of course, Your Highness,” he says, and both bow.

_ So maybe...she wouldn’t have done what they did. _  Yang takes another step forward.  “Look, I—” All three turn their gaze to her.  “Your...your highness, my sister didn’t mean to bother you.  She came here by mistake and I’m just here to bring her back home.  Let her go, please.” Yang lets her head drop, eyes to the ground, and when silence is her only answer, she adds, “I’ll do anything.”

A pair of bare feet move into Yang’s sight, and she looks up to see that the princess has approached her, and she has a look on her face that seems almost regretful.  “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do,” she says, and Yang clenches her hammer reflexively. “I can’t allow her to leave.”

Yang can feel her anger growing again and she struggles to keep her voice level.  “Why not?”

“Because we can’t afford to have our existence known by your kind.”

“So, that’s it?  You’re going to keep both of us locked up here forever?” she asks, gesturing wide with one arm.

The princess doesn’t answer immediately, watching Yang with her eyes slightly narrowed.  “You said you would do anything for her?”

“Yes.”

“Then leave.  Go back to where you came from, keep what you saw here a secret, and I will guarantee your sister’s safety here at the castle.”

Yang stares at her, mouth half open.  The offer is the last thing Yang would have expected, but the idea of accepting it is impossible, unfathomable, even though there’s nothing in the girl’s eyes that indicate she’s anything other than serious.  As if Yang could leave Ruby  _ here. _  As if she would ever even  _ dream  _ of it.

But the princess is already turning away from her, and Yang can hear her speaking in hushed tones to the others.  Desperation reminds her of the hammer’s weight in her hand, of the damage she could do with it, but what is she going to do?   _ Kill  _ these people?  They have a reason for what they’ve done, and even if she wanted to hurt them she doesn’t know if she could win, outnumbered the way she is.  If they subdued her, she would have no chance of rescuing Ruby. The best she could do then would be to hope they would let her stay with her in this frozen tower.

That’s when the thought hits her.  Her only chance.

The princess starts to walk away, but Yang staggers forward.  “Wait!” Her voice echoes, falling to silence as the princess turns halfway to look back at Yang.  Heart racing, she stares back for a second before leaning down to set both her hammer and the lantern on the floor beside her.  Deep breath. “Take me instead.”

A pensive frown crossing her face, the princess lets her eyes drop to the ground for a moment before facing Yang again.  “You...would take her place?”

“Yang….”

Ruby’s small voice tugs at something in Yang’s chest, makes her eyes sting.  She keeps an iron grip on her voice, or it will shatter like fragile ice. “If I do,” she says, “you have to release her.  You have to get her back through the woods safely.”

The princess nods, her face impassive again.  “It will be done. But understand, you’re giving me your word that you’ll stay here forever.”

The air feels thin, but Yang’s resolve is not.  “You have it.”

The helpless protest from behind Yang nearly ruins her, but she clenches her fists.  Not moving her eyes, the princess eventually turns her head just slightly to the side and nods.  The man with a tail grimaces but says nothing. He steps around the princess, around Yang as she turns to watch him reach into the folds of his clothing, and she hears the clink of metal when he pulls out a set of keys.

And Yang realizes that this is it.  Time is as short as her breath.

The instant the barrier is removed, Yang dashes into the cell, to her sister.  All she wants is to hold her, but there’s no time, so she reaches into her pack instead.

“Yang!”

“It’s okay, Rubes.”  She pulls out the red cloak and swings it around Ruby’s shoulders, focusing there and not on her sister’s face.  “It’s okay, it’s—” Yang can feel Ruby’s hands clutching at her, can feel Ruby’s hot tears wetting her wrists where she fastens the cloak around her neck.  In that moment they’re children again, Ruby too young to understand and Yang too young to carry what’s on her shoulders, but somehow, because it’s for Ruby, she can carry anything.  She tugs at the cloak just a little, straightens it, and then there’s nothing else to distract herself with. With a deep breath, she looks at her sister and takes her face between her hands.  “Ruby….”

“I won’t l-leave you!”

Tears spill down Yang’s cheeks but her voice is as steady as she could hope for.  “I promised Dad I’d keep you safe.”

And then there’s a hand on her shoulder, pushing her aside.  Yang has to clench her jaw against her urge to lash out when it moves to her sister’s arm.

“No!  Get off me!”

“Ruby—”

Her hand clutches Yang’s even as she’s being pulled away, her panicked, tear-filled eyes locked with Yang’s own.  “Yang!  _ Yang!” _

Yang gives her the last thing she has to give.  “I love you.” And pulling her hand away from Ruby’s hurts more than a blade between her ribs.

It takes battling everything, every instinct she’s learned since she was seven years old from days of watchful protection and long nights of quieting tears, to see her weeping sister dragged away yet hold herself in place.  To  _ allow  _ it to happen.  It aches sharply in her lungs and to her bones.

But Ruby’s cries fade, and without her Yang feels...untethered, hollow, as though the echoes are pulling her  _ self  _ away with them, leaving only bones in this cell.  She shakes, breathes in sharp gasps...notices with a dull shock that the princess still stands there across the room.  In the brief second that their gazes touch, Yang almost hates her. Rage almost flares up in her chest, but the look on that face is too palpable, too genuine.  Distaste. Remorse. Shame. Then she’s gone before Yang can react, disappearing back into the shadows.

And now Yang is alone.  She has  _ never  _ known what to do when she’s alone.  Staring without seeing, she stands still and empty until a shiver rocks her body, forcing a breath from her chest that turns to mist in the air.  She wraps her arms around her body and turns to face the dreary cell. Cold stone floor and cold stone walls, wooden bench, wooden bucket, and a pile of straw in one corner near the only window which is little more than a slit in the wall that lets in gusts of snowflakes.  To think that Ruby might have spent the rest of her life here….

Yang moves to the window and looks out of it, but from this high, falling snow and fog mostly obscure the castle grounds.

It strikes her then—this is all she’ll ever see of the world from now on, not the sunlight on her family’s fields or bright oak leaves in the fall, not sparks flying from her father’s hammer, not the wind swirling through her sister’s cape as their dog trots behind her.  Just this distant sliver through unyielding stone.  _ You got Ruby out, that’s the only thing that matters, _ she tells herself, but it isn’t.  It’s the important thing, but not the  _ only  _ thing.  A quiver finds her lip and she turns from the window, leans back against the wall.  Tears begin to fall before she has even slid to the ground.

She cries into her hands, a lonely sound in the silence, holding onto Ruby even though she’s already let her go, but after a while the silence falls again as Yang’s breathing slowly settles.  She wipes at her eyes a few times and clasps her arms around her knees. What few, quiet tears she has left still trickle down her cheeks. From where she sits, Yang can just see the lantern outside her cell, on the floor where she left it, and she considers going to fetch it for light and its tiny offering of warmth, but at that moment, the sound of approaching footsteps meets her ears.

Yang straightens, tense.  She wasn’t expecting to see anyone else tonight, but she realizes they  _ did  _ leave the cell door wide open.  Movement is just visible in the outer hall, a pair of eyes glinting in the shadow, and then the princess steps into the light, followed by a girl that Yang hasn’t met.

Yang pushes herself to her feet, brushing tears from her still-damp face as discreetly as she can manage.  The princess’ expression is cool and detached again. She doesn’t react to Yang’s attempt to hide her tears, and doesn’t move any closer.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

Yang blinks.  “I….” She looks between the princess and the other girl for a few seconds, unable to understand the meaning of the words.  “Didn’t you come back to lock the door?”

The princess cocks an eyebrow.  “Would you  _ prefer  _ to stay in the tower?”

“No.”

“Then follow me.”

She turns away and Yang only hesitates for a moment before starting after her, pausing only to pick up her hammer and lantern from the floor.  She follows the others down the long and narrow stairway, back through halls that Yang recognizes and then turning down others that she doesn’t.  They go consistently downward, passing door after door and statue after statue, but Yang’s sense of direction is completely lost and she has no idea which part of the castle they’re in.  Something she does notice is that if it weren’t for the lantern she carries, they would be walking in complete darkness. The princess and her companion carry no light of their own. Perhaps they don’t need it.

They walk in silence for several minutes, until eventually the princess speaks as they pass a high balcony that opens into darkness below.  “While you are here, you are not our prisoner. You’re our guest,” she says, sounding neither unfriendly nor particularly warm. “The castle is your home now.  My servants will attend you and provide you with anything you need, and you are free to go where you like, inside the castle and on the grounds. I would only ask that you do not enter the West Wing.”

Looking over the railing into nothing as she walks, Yang starts, “What’s in the West—”

“ _ It’s forbidden.” _

Yang stops in her tracks, pinned by a hard stare from the princess’ golden eyes.  Her voice is quiet, but there’s an edge like steel within the soft sound. A little unsettled, Yang swallows, but keeps her eyes on the princess who stands there until seeming satisfied that Yang isn’t going to press her any further.  Then she turns and continues on, the other girl falling in place again just beside her and a step behind. Yang watches, but a wave of loneliness—of longing for something familiar—threatens to swallow her up, so she hurries after them.

Silence settles again.  Yang’s thoughts run wild, turning endlessly to her sister, and every time they do, her throat tightens and her eyesight shimmers with new tears.  She fights it as best she can, and finally, the princess stops in front of a doorway, turning to Yang while the other girl opens it.

“Sun has already lit a fire in the hearth, and there’s a light meal for you on the table.  If this room isn’t to your liking, let Ilia know and she’ll help you find another one.” The girl beside the princess—Ilia—nods to Yang with a hint of a smile.

Normally, Yang would thank them for their hospitality, but the circumstances don’t exactly lend themselves to gratitude.  She lowers her eyes and can’t find a voice to say anything at all, so she steps past them into the room. The door closes with a quiet thump behind her.

High, paned windows along one wall, a sofa in front of a crackling fire, a table bearing a platter covered by a silver dome, and a bed framed by four carved posts and a light canopy are all luxurious and well-kept, but Yang doesn’t have the capacity to care or be curious about any of it.  All she knows is that her shoulders are heavy with more than one kind of exhaustion. She opens the lantern hatch and blows out the flame, then strips out of half of her clothes and leaves them in a haphazard pile on the floor beside her hammer and lantern. She moves straight to the bed, ignoring the food that was left for her.

Yang curls up under the puffy comforter.  Everything is incredibly soft. Incredibly unfamiliar.

She cries until sleep takes her.

  
  


Sunlight pierces through the thinning trees, bright in Ruby’s bleary eyes, when the man in front of her stops and turns back.  The other man isn’t a man at all, anymore. He’s a small fox with oversized ears—he has been since they left the castle—and he curls back around from the forest’s edge and back towards them.

“Not a word of this, girl,” says the one who can still speak, “not if your sister’s life means anything to you.  I can assure you it means nothing to us.”

Ruby stands still, staring forward and listening behind as six feet move through leaves.  Once they’re gone, she can only hear the river that flows along the outside of the woods, and her feet drag, moving her towards it.  She knows the way home now, but it’s the only thing she knows.

She crosses a log that lays over the river, and then there’s home ahead of her, only it doesn’t feel like she remembered it did two long, long days ago.  Her feet still move, and the house grows larger, and it’s only a few more moments before the front door bursts open. There’s her father, sprinting out to her, jumping over the fence.  He crashes into her, squeezing her in his arms, and she thinks he’s talking but she can’t make the sounds into words.

He backs up, crouches in front of her to her eye level.  He’s gripping her shoulders and she sees his mouth form Yang’s name, and then she can’t see anything at all, not through the tears that flood her eyes.  She shakes her head. She can’t say anything.

Tai freezes, takes her head in his big hands.  He says something else. Ruby clutches his wrists and just shakes her head again, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Ruby doesn’t count the heartbeats pounding in her ears, but after many of them, her father stands and releases her.  Stumbles back a step, half turns, falls to his knees. Once there were two strong people in Ruby’s life—now Yang is gone and her father is on his knees, and she can’t say anything to pick him up again.

Eventually, he reaches up without looking, fumbles for Ruby’s wrist, pulls her down next to him and holds her while he quakes and she clings to him.  Then someone else is there, paws and whines and a tongue licking her tears, asking her why. And Ruby can’t say anything.

She can’t say anything.  If she does, there will be a real reason for her father’s tears.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope it's clear at the end that tai thinks yang is dead, cause i ain't got NO idea how to write from the pov of a kid who's dazed, traumatized, and physically running on fumes

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, all that good stuff 8)
> 
> you can find me at yangonfire.tumblr.com


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